


A Perfect Match

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Series: Games of the Heart [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Chess, Don’t copy to another site, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: For the tumblr prompt: I wish you would write a fic on how you this TOS spirk met / and/or how they fell in love (whichever tickles your fancy) Thanks your fics are wonderful 🤗I decided to put forward my take on when Spock might have fallen in love with Jim. Not dramatically, or all at once, but gradually, with a defining, unexpected moment of realisation that solidified his thoughts in a single moment. Momentous yet mundane.As the title might suggest, this happens playing chess. I never could resist a good pun! ;)





	A Perfect Match

The day Spock fell in love was unremarkable.

Technically speaking, it was not even, in fact, measurably specific to that single day.

What he ought to say, was that the day he  _ realised _ he was in love was unremarkable.

Which was, in fact, utterly and completely true. So true, in fact, that he would have resented the mundanity of it had he not been above such inconsequential fits of pique.

He had commenced alpha shift, at precisely 0600hrs. Following this, the eight hour duty station tasking fell into a standard routine. On each hour, he re-established the scans mapping the new star system they were gradually gliding through, and sent the data through to the lab for analysis on his next shift.

Three hours in, Hikaru registered some delay in response from the inertial dampeners, and Scotty proceeded to check in with the bridge every ten minutes for the following hour undergoing test sequences to ensure the system was back in working order.

Another two hours in, Nyota detected several signals that were indicative of residual broadcasts, likely marking a trade-ship or patrol vessel’s old markers and head signature.

Approximately forty-five minutes after this, they detected a waystation beacon, and sent out a small party of ensigns to report back one hour before the close of alpha shift on their findings. From their explorations and data, it was established that the beacon had been carried into the star system through the stellar wind drift, and that this explained the other collated signatures nearby; the star system acted somewhat like a wash-beach on a planet’s ocean.

The shift closed, and as was their custom, Spock accompanied Jim to his quarters, to play a game of chess.

He did not know it yet, but that game of chess was set to change the course of his entire life.

Spock, as usual, chose to play the black figurines, while Jim settled into his first move as white.

While Spock did not wish to throw imprecations at his Captain, it was clear that they had fallen into something of a routine. Jim would, inevitably, make precisely identical sequences of moves; infuriatingly preceded and followed by plays that seemed to lack any semblance of forethought or logic. He would smile, warm and dimpled, each time he made a particularly unpredictable manoeuvre, as if he knew exactly how much the confusion rankled.

Spock could not help but forgive Jim for this quirk of teasing; he knew most humans followed this method of communication religiously, and he had long since come to the realisation that, while some might intend ill, Jim, and the vast majority of the rest of the crew, were simply  _ fond _ .

He still found it unsettling, to be the subject of such unified, unconditional acceptance. It wasn’t that the humans around him perceived him as normal; more that overwhelmingly he was perceived as  _ one of them _ regardless. To feel a sense of belonging went against many principles he had been taught; nevertheless the sensation was entirely pleasant.

He was sufficiently distracted in his musings, that he failed to notice a ploy from his worthy opponent.

“Check mate.” Jim never seemed gloating in victory, nor cruel. His smile, turned bright and slowly to Spock, was pure contentment; the satisfaction and happiness of a shared experience reaching its conclusion. That the conclusion was in his favour was immaterial to Jim; it was the time spent that mattered.

“Congratulations, Jim. You would make a fine study in the chess tournaments of my childhood.” Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement of Jim’s victory, and they proceeded to clear the board in perfect harmony, movements achieving a synchronicity born of hours of practise and intimate knowledge of the other.

“Me, a match for young Vulcans? I’d rather hope I could avoid competitions, Spock. I’m not in the game for the numbers, or scores. I would prefer to let those who truly want it have their turn.” Jim offered Spock the last piece from the set to pack up, and he snapped the folding board closed neatly.

“I might at least show you the chess set I played with. I believe it holds many qualities that you would enjoy; especially given human tendencies towards sentiment.” Spock was not sure what possessed him to make the offer; only that it seemed right to him. It was unusual for him to work from a place of intuition in his interactions. He supposed he must have picked up something of it from Jim, in their time together.

“I would very much like that.” Jim responded, warmly. His hand was not hovering near Spock’s, because Jim was always careful to observe reasonable boundaries, yet Spock irrationally wished for Jim to be less meticulously considerate.

The care, the genuine interest in Jim’s voice, caught him off guard. It brought him abruptly face to face with the emotions that had hitherto slunk their way, unnoticed, into his half-Vulcan, half-human heart.

Jim: considerate, gentle, astonishingly intelligent; a being of intuition, grace and a fundamental kindness that lit up anything that he touched. His mere presence had the power to elevate not just the situation, but the people within it; he had the unique power to inspire others to be the best versions of themselves.

He made Spock himself aspire to further himself; yearn to become more than he was. Spock ached, in that moment, to be the person who might express and understand his own emotions sufficiently well that he might vocalise them.

Spock knew, in that precise instant, that he was in love with James Tiberius Kirk, and that he would continue to love this remarkable, wonderful man until he ceased to hold the capacity for such a feeling.

In the absence of a way to translate his swiftly-had revelation, he chose to convey Jim a soft, subtle smile.

“As would I.” He answered Jim’s interest with an affirmation, and felt his very katra sing in response to Jim’s joy.

“Someday I really must show you my first model spaceship. No doubt you would find it appallingly rudimentary; but I’m sure you would humour a sentimental human?” Jim walked with Spock through the short stretch of corridor to his room.

“I would very much like that.” Spock echoed back Jim’s words, the emotion in them skating close to the surface.

“I look forward to it. Thank you, Mr. Spock. It has been a marvellous evening. Quite a perfect chess match.” Jim glowed; this was how he seemed to cope with his strict boundary on hugging a touch-telepath; instead he managed to emanate an aura of caring that laid thick over his skin. To Spock’s still-reeling mind, it felt almost magnetic.

“Indeed.” Spock turned mentally to his meditation breaths, to calm his intense desire to concede to a human ‘hug’.

“Careful,” Jim said, humorously. “You almost agreed to having an emotion, there.”   
  
“Almost.” Spock agreed, placid despite his fast-flowing mind.

“Goodnight, Spock. And thank you again for your time. My dear friend.” Jim seemed to rest on the edge of a precipice. His hand rested, familiar and welcome, on Spock’s sleeve, the warmth of his body bleeding through the fabric. Spock wondered if perhaps he too felt the soft, insistent pull between them. Then Jim stepped back, and retreated down the corridor.

Taking his warmth and Spock’s heart with him.

“Goodnight, Jim.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing; I hope it worked out alright and is enjoyable! :) <3
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos feed my dark soul and make me ecstatically happy! <3


End file.
